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Socks Are Where The Heart Is September 2, 2009

Posted by Fiona in Big things, Craftiness, Knitting, Lovely people.

Remember the shawl I couldn’t get my head round?  I had to rip it back and restart it a good six times, in the end, and then ran out of yarn two rows from finishing.  Well, I bought some more of the yarn at work yesterday and sat down for about three hours last night and bound it off.  (I hate binding off shawls.  It seems to take about five million years.  But I digress.)  It’s just finishing blocking on a spare mattress on my bedroom floor as we speak – and it’s lovely.  The lace edging is wonderful.  If I can be bothered to get up early and weave the ends in I’ll wear it at work tomorrow.  Fiona – 1; really, laughably simple garter stitch – 0.

The fact is, however, that I can knit blankets and hats and shawls and goodness knows what else, but you know, I’m just kidding about.  Experimenting.  When it comes to serious knitting, making modifications or scribbling down bits of design, it’s only ever been socks, for me, and I shall be a die-hard sock knitter for a good long time to come.  I hadn’t done a pair in weeks until yesterday, when I sat down and cast on a pair in the most outrageous visible-from-Mars yellow I’ve ever come across.  (Marcus will attest to the colour, I managed to convince him to help me wind it into a ball yesterday lunchtime.  Whatever I did to get him, I have no idea but it must have been bloody incredible.)  Anyway, the sock.  It’s a breath of fresh air.  I am a sock knitter like I’m a law student, a connoisseur of Agatha Christie and a redhead.  It’s just the way I happened.  It’s in my programming.  Even when the socks in question are violently daffodil-coloured.  (Before you ask whether daffodils can be violent: this one can.)  Pictures to follow, no doubt, as soon as I have some kind of natural light.  And if you ever find yourself in the position where I’ve just given you a pair of handknitted socks, be careful with them, don’t put them in the washing machine or drop them down the back of the sofa – that’s a bit of me you’re wearing there.  That’s (on average) twenty-five hours of my life there, and my comfort zone to boot.

On another note – and it was Agatha Christie that reminded me of this – they’ve got another Miss Marple, I see.  And why might that be?  Geraldine McEwan was perfect.  Why are we now getting a more assertive and sparky Miss Marple?  Wasn’t sticking lesbians into every conceivable (and some unconceiveable) plotline enough for the producers of the noughties?  I shall be watching the new series with great interest, of course, and I’m sure it shall be very good, but honestly, it’s like replacing David Suchet as Poirot.  Or David Tennant as Doctor Who.  Unthinkable.  (Just looked at Wikipedia and saw that Geraldine McEwan retired.  Still not impressed.  It’s a stylistic thing.  Humph.)

Also, it’s been raining today.  Hard.  And windy.  It’s September.  Lily (sister) is going back to school tomorrow.  I don’t want to go to work tomorrow; I want to stay in my room with my knees under my chin and make socks and read.  I want to hide away from the outside.

I have a very strong urge to dye something green.



1. Callan - September 2, 2009

There is only one way to cure the urge to dye something green. You know what you have to do.

2. Flix - September 3, 2009

I would like some green Fisox (totally should be your trade name…) please? If you could put a bit o’ purple in there too, that would be fab, thanks.


3. Clare - September 8, 2009

I wish she hadn’t (retired, that is) she WAS perfect. I thought of her as a third (well, 6th, I constantly adopt old women) grandma, and she just WAS Miss Marple.
Also, this woman voiced the terrifying schoolmistress-whose-name-I-can’t-remember in the Radio 4 adaption of ‘The Little Princess’, and – as such – conjures terror into my very soul whenever she speaks.

In person though, she is so CUTE, and I could probably grow to love her, and after all they’ve kept the wonderful wonderful theme tune so it’s not as bad as it could be…


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